


roses in your hair and sun in your eyes

by wvlfqveen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/F, Non-Binary Arya, no one is straight because why would they be, sansa has a Big Gay Freak Out TM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:05:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wvlfqveen/pseuds/wvlfqveen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thank you,” she says, smiling. She suddenly realizes what she looks like -just rolled out of bed- and blushes. “I’m sorry you have to witness me like this,” she apologizes, gesturing down to her outfit.</p><p>Her neighbour looks at her for a moment -Sansa’s blush gets darker- and then they smile. “I’m not,” they tease.</p><p>Sansa laughs and walks up to the fence to extend her hand for a shake. “I’m Sansa,” she says. They shake. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	roses in your hair and sun in your eyes

**Author's Note:**

> *air horn* guess whos back w more girls in love
> 
> i haven't written a got thing in SO LONG and i saw this au floating around tumblr and i was like yes. it is time
> 
> enjoy my babies and give feedback if u want xoxo

Sansa comes home from work one day to someone moving in in the house beside her.

She doesn’t see her new neighbour that day; she’s busy making ballet class plans all day and then she has a family dinner with her siblings so she doesn’t get the chance to even think about the new addition to her neighbourhood. The mystery person moves in quickly and quietly.

The next day, she wakes up late as she doesn’t have to work till the afternoon, and opens the door in her silk robe to pick up her newspaper. Lady, her dog, bounds outside and runs around her yard like she hasn’t seen it before. Sansa shakes her head fondly before bending down for the newspaper.

“That’s a beautiful dog,” a voice off to her left says. She straightens up and pauses.

Her new neighbour, a sweet-looking person around Sansa’s age with long brown hair and large, dark eyes is standing close to the fence they share, holding….something that looks like a gardening tool.

Yeah, okay, Sansa has a yard with plants, too, but she won’t pretend she actually knows anything about them. Her mom takes more care of her plants than Sansa does.

“Thank you,” she says, smiling. She suddenly realizes what she looks like -just rolled out of bed- and blushes. “I’m sorry you have to witness me like this,” she apologizes, gesturing down to her outfit.

Her neighbour looks at her for a moment -Sansa’s blush gets darker- and then they smile. “I’m not,” they tease.

Sansa laughs and walks up to the fence to extend her hand for a shake. “I’m Sansa,” she says. They shake. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“Thank you. I’m Margaery.”

“And I’m her brother, Loras,” a voice says way behind Margaery. Sansa jumps a little, and lifts her head to see a guy with light brown, curly hair bent over a flowerbed. He straightens and turns to face them.

Sansa’s cheeks feel around 100 degrees. Loras is probably one of the prettiest boys she’s ever seen. He takes off his gloves and approaches them to shake Sansa’s hand with a charming grin, then abruptly leans down and kisses it. He’s very tall.

“Hello,” she greets, flustered. “I didn’t realize I had two neighbours, my apologies.”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Loras says. “I’m just helping her move in. I live way downtown.”

Margaery sniffs theatrically. “He’s left me for a rich businessman and his seaside penthouse.”

_Businessman._

Oh.

Sansa laughs. “It’s okay,” she says, then pats Margaery’s hand. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You’re in good hands Marge,” Loras says, then ducks away laughing as Margaery swipes at him.

“Don’t call me that,” she growls playfully. Lady, drawn by the sounds of scuffling, trots up to Sansa and stands on her hind legs on the fence.

Margaery turns back to her and jumps when she sees Lady so close to her. “Woah,” she laughs. “I didn’t realize how big your dog is.”

“She’s a beast,” Sansa says, patting Lady’s head. She barks. “This is Lady,” she tells Margaery. “You can pet her if you want. She doesn’t bite the people I like.”

Margaery grins. “Thank God I’m one of them, then.” She reaches out a well-manicured hand; short, clean nails, a perfect red colour (despite the tool she’s still wielding her hand really doesn’t look like it does much gardening) and pats Lady on the head hesitantly. Lady leans into her for more.

“She’s so soft,” Margaery says in awe. “How old is she?”

“Seven,” Sansa says, looking down at Lady. “I’ve had her since I was 17.”

“I can’t imagine her as a puppy,” Margaery says, looking at her dog thoughtfully. Sansa feels herself smile slightly.

“She was very cute, but she grew up very very quickly,” Sansa recalls fondly.

They had found Lady and her siblings around her 17th birthday, right about when her first and only long-term relationship -so far- started to get especially bad. Lady was the one that saved her from what she was sure would have been far more mental health problems and trips to the therapist.

Lady, as if sensing her sudden mood change, drops to all fours and rubs against her. She whines in distress. Margaery looks at her questioningly.

“It’s fine, baby,” Sansa soothes, rubbing Lady behind her ears. She glances up as she sees Loras approach them out of the corner of her eye.

“I gotta go, Renly is picking me up” he says, kissing his sister on both cheeks, and then doing the same to Sansa. He pats Lady on the head hesitantly just as a black BMW stops across the street.

“Yeah, yeah, go back to your sugar daddy,” Margaery says, laughing. He flips her off, winks at Sansa and then he’s gone, gracefully sliding into the back of the BMW before it speeds off.

“Sugar daddy?”

“Hm, wha- oh!,” Margaery exclaims, then giggles. “I was just teasing him. Renly is definitely not sugar daddy material. He does have plenty of sugar, though,” she says, rubbing her fingers meaningfully.

Sansa nods in understanding. After all, she didn’t get this house on her own. She’s no stranger to wealth. Familial wealth, at least.

She startles suddenly, seeing Margaery still holding the gardening tool. “I’m so sorry, I’m keeping you from work, aren’t I?”

“Oh, no, no, I’m almost done anyway. I don’t mind talking to you,” Margaery says, smiling. Sansa smiles back.

“Well when you’re done you’re welcome to come over for dinner. Food will be ready at 6.”

“Oh, no, no, I don’t wanna impose-”

“Nonsense,” Sansa interrupts. “I come from a big family and I’m not so used to living alone so I’ll be glad for your company.”

Margaery smiles. “Alright then. See you at 6.”

She grins and goes back inside with a wave, Lady on her heels.

* * *

 

After the initial welcome dinner, that’s pretty much how their interactions go. A passing good morning, or a hello when one of them comes back from work, a quick pat for Lady by Margaery. Loras is sometimes there, too, and although Sansa still thinks he’s distressingly pretty, her interest in him fades. After all, she’s almost 100% sure he’s not interested in girls _at all_.

It’s two weeks later, while hanging out with her sibling, Arya, that she realizes she hasn’t told any of her family about her new neighbour. Arya had just asked about the pretty winter roses on the vase by the entrance. Margaery had given her those after Sansa had made a passing complaint about them being hard to find this far South.

“Who the fuck is Margaery?,” Arya asks, flopping down on her couch. Lady settles down at their feet.

“Language,” Sansa says automatically. “Margaery is my very nice neighbour next door. She just moved in two weeks ago. I thought I had already told you.”

Arya raises their eyebrows. “You didn’t. I’m shocked, you know. You used to gossip like an old lady with Jeyne. How’s Jeyne anyway?”

Jeyne was her childhood friend. Sansa scowls at the gossip comment. “We didn’t gossip,” she grumbles. “And Jeyne is fine. Married and with a kid two towns away.”

Arya whistles. “Damn, some people move fast.”

Sansa snorts. “Yeah, except you and whatshisname.”

Arya scowls at her, then throws their legs on her lap as she sits down, in a form of retaliation. “You know his name, asshole. There’s nothing between me and Gendry.”

“Oh please,” Sansa says, trying to push off her sibling’s legs with absolutely no luck. Their boots had _hurt_. “I could cut the sexual tension between you with a butter knife. I bet even Jon has realized something is going on between you too and you know how thick he is about things like that. He hadn’t even known Robb and Theon were dating until he literally caught them having sex.”

Arya throws their head back and barks out a sudden laugh. “Man, do you remember his face? He couldn’t look Robb in the eye for weeks.”

Sansa bites back a giggle. She feels bad for laughing at Jon but it had been a truly hilarious time in their lives.

Arya mimics wiping tears from under their eyes. Sansa shakes her head.

“Anyway,” Arya says then, narrowing their eyes -cold and grey, the Stark colour-. “Tell me more about this neighbour.”

Sansa frowns. Arya had put a weird emphasis on "neighbour". She chose to ignore it.

“She’s around my age, and she co-owns a cosmetics company with her brothers and their grandma. You know, _Tyrell Rose_.”

Arya’s brows knit together in thought. “I think I’ve seen the name somewhere.”

“Yeah well, she’s Margaery _Tyrell_. She’s very nice though, totally down to earth, and Lady loves her. She’s probably the friendliest neighbour I’ve had in this neighbourhood so far.”

Arya hums, still giving her that weird look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sansa finally snaps. Arya merely raises an eyebrow at their outburst and pops their gum annoyingly.

“No reason,” they lie. “So, what does she look like?”

She scowls at the blatant brush-off and huffs through her nose before replying. “She has long brown hair and huge brown eyes and she smiles a lot or smirks like she’s thinking how to take over the world. She’s kinda short though.”

Arya rolls their eyes. “Everyone’s shorter than you, you _giraffe_.”

Sansa, despite always priding herself in being one of the mature children in the family, grabs one of the couch pillows and smacks her sibling with it. Arya shrieks and grabs a pillow of their own and they both forget about Margaery for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

The next morning, Arya wakes Sansa up by jumping on her bed. Sansa grunts and shoves her face deeper in her pillow.

Hands on her shoulder. A hard shake.

“Wake up and smell the roses,” Arya singsongs nonsensically. Sansa thinks it’s way too early for this. She tells them so.

“Shut up and get up. I need to leave and I want you to introduce me to your neighbour. She’s outside gardening.”

“Why do I have to introduce you? I don’t have to be awake for another hour and I’m _working_ today,” she whines and flips herself on her back resignedly.

“Because you’re a good sister and our mama taught you manners,” Arya replies without missing a beat and jumps off the bed. They have changed clothes from yesterday, traded their black jeans for a ripped pair and her blue t-shirt for a _Metallica_ muscle-shirt, and even done their makeup, dark eyeliner giving them an even wilder edge. With their undercut and their surprisingly muscled arms for their stature, they look like a punk, or maybe a goth. Sansa doesn’t say it out loud because they’d probably take it as a compliment.

“Meeting Gendry today, are we?” Sansa says, smirking. Arya rolls their eyes and exits the room. Sansa can hear them stomp their way down the stairs.

She gets up, and doesn’t bother putting her robe on. She had slept in her pretty, silk nighty, the weather outside too hot for anything else.

Arya is waiting by the door , eating a bagel. They look as impatient as Lady does when she’s asking for a walk.

Sansa opens the door with flair. “Here you go, your Highness.”

Arya rolls their eyes and walks outside, Lady bounding down the steps in front of them.

“Good morning,” says a familiar voice to her left. Sansa looks over and her greeting dies on her lips.

Margaery is, unsurprisingly, gardening.

Surprisingly, though, in only a tiny pair of shorts and a flowery bikini top. There are rose petals stuck in her hair and her eyes look very light in the sun.

Sansa has trouble swallowing all of a sudden.

“Good morning,” Arya replies, grinning way too hard. Sansa forgets her distress for a moment to glare at them.

Wait. Why is she reacting like this?

She’s seen girls in bathing suits before. Sansa’s no prude. It’s not a big deal.

Then why can’t she meet Margaery’s eyes?

“You must be Sansa’s sibling,” Margaery says, extending a hand over the fence. Arya shakes it.

“Yes, I am. You must be the pretty neighbour, Margaery. I’m Arya.”

“The pretty neighbour, huh?,” Margaery asks, glancing over at Sansa with a grin. Sansa blushes.

She’s going to kill Arya.

“Yup,” Arya says, popping the p, because they’re just that annoying and obnoxious. “It was nice to meet you but I gotta catch the bus. Sansa, walk me to the stop?,” Arya asks innocently. Sansa’s jaw clenches.

“Sure,” is all she says.

“Nice to meet you, too! Bye bye!,” Margaery says with a wave. She smiles at Sansa and then goes back to her roses as Sansa walks Arya to the bus stop.

They both wait until they’re out sight and earshot and then they turn on each other, speaking at the same time.

“What was that?”

“You like her!”

Sansa blinks at them. “What? No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Arya, I-,” Sansa splutters, at a loss.

Arya pats her consolingly on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I know exactly what’s going on. You have a bad case of...,” they lean close to her to whisper. Sansa bends to meet them. “Homosexuality.”

Sansa straightens abruptly and levels their sibling with a look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Arya says, turning to sit down on the pavement. Sansa suddenly realizes she’s only in her nighty, in a neighbourhood where word travels fast, mid-morning. She crosses her arms over herself. Arya continues, oblivious. “That look you gave her when you saw her in her bathing suit was definitely not heterosexual. Trust me, Sansa. Literally none of your siblings are straight.” They snort. “Man, I thought Rickon was going to be the late bloomer but here you are. I’m glad, though. Having a straight sibling for the past 21 years was tiring enough.”

“Can you slow down a bit?,” Sansa asks nearly hysterically. “I’m 24 and I like a girl for the first time in my life.”

She likes a girl.

Oh my God.

She likes her _neighbour_ , who is a _girl_.

_Oh my God._

Arya looks at her, then grabs her face. “Listen,” they say. “I can see you’re already freaking out so stop right there. You don’t have to figure out your sexuality right now, or ever, okay? Whatever it is that you feel for Margaery is valid either way. Some people don’t realize they’re not straight until later in life. Others know from the beginning. This is perfectly natural. We live in a very heteronormative society. So, relax. Talk to Margaery. Flirt with her. Kiss her. Grab her ass. Grab your own ass. Live.”

“Wow, Martin Luther King Jr.,” Sansa jokes half-heartedly. She’s still freaking out on the inside, but less intensely now.

Arya slaps her on the back just as her bus turns around the corner. “I’ll see you later. And heed my advice,” they say, their voice dropping an octave for effect. Sansa rolls her eyes but smiles when they turn their back to her to board the bus downtown.

She walks back to her house in deep thought. Margaery, dressed in a tasteful, charcoal pencil skirt, a white blouse and black heels locks her door just as Sansa steps back in her yard.

“Heading out so soon?,” Sansa asks as calmly as she can. Margaery turns around. Her hair is in a bun on the back of her head and she has a dark nude lipstick on. Sansa swallows as those lips stretch into a smile.

“Surprise meeting at the company,” Margaery explains with a roll of her eyes, walking down her steps. Sansa has to consciously make an effort to not look at her hips or her legs.

“I probably shouldn’t say “have fun” but have fun anyway.”

Margaery laughs, and it sounds like bells. “Thanks,” she says, and waves before getting into her tiny, eco-friendly car and driving away.

Sansa inhales through her nose for 1,2,3,4 seconds, holds it, then exhales for as long.

She can’t believe she’s having a gay freak out at the age of 24, she think as she gets inside and heads straight for the washroom to do her morning routine. Why couldn’t she have on in her early teens like every other Stark sibling?

* * *

 

Sansa avoids Margaery after that day. She still greets her when she’s going in or out of the house but she keeps it brief, with minimal eye contact. She feels guilty whenever Margaery seems to register it with a furrow of her perfectly shaped eyebrows and a pout of her pink, pink lips, but she has to get her non-heterosexual shit together before even thinking of approaching Margaery in a romantic or sexual way.

It takes her a week before she cracks at the family table while they’re all silently eating.

“I think I’m bisexual,” Sansa blurts out, with no context. She just couldn’t hold it anymore, and she’s still contemplating how the word “bisexual” fits on her tongue. Arya lets their fork down and slaps the table.

“Another one,” they say, in a horrible imitation of DJ Khaled. Rickon laughs. Her other brothers are smiling, Robb smugly, like he knew all along. Their parents just blink at her, way too used to coming outs in their family by now.

“That’s great, honey,” her mother says, cutting into her steak calmly. “May I ask what prompted this realization?”

“Her hot neighbour,” Arya says, because they’re an actual _rat_. She glares at them, even though she can feel her cheeks already get hot.

“And we hear this now why?,” Robb asks, looking slightly offended to know anything about Sansa’s life after Arya.

“Because I didn’t really know I liked her until-”

“Until she saw her in her bathing suit. Can’t blame her to be honest.”

“Arya!,” Sansa protests, whirling her head around to glare at her.

“No yelling at the table,” her mother cuts in. Sansa’s mouth falls shut.

“Now, Arya, you should have let Sansa talk about this,” her mother scolds, looking at Arya with an expression she’s worn ever since Arya entered their teens. Arya looks down with the rare look of shame, but doesn’t apologize, Sansa notes. She glares at them.

“What is this girl’s name?,” her father asks calmly. It’s times like these that she truly appreciates his ability to keep a cool head at all times.

“Margaery Tyrell,” Sansa says. A look of recognition dawns on her father’s face.

“Olenna Tyrell’s granddaughter?,” her father asks. “The CEO of that cosmetics company?”

“Yes,” Sansa confirms, not surprised her father knows her, what with him being the CEO of Baratheon Industries after all.

He’d gotten the position around the time Sansa had started dating the then-believed Baratheon heir, Jeoffrey, son of Robert Baratheon. (Or so they thought.)

She and Jeoffrey were long over, -she shudders and thinks _thank God_ \- but her dad was still at the company, taking over as CEO due to Robert Baratheon’s health problems and, well, general attitude.

“Smart as a whip, Mrs Tyrell,” her father says, thoughtful. “And her granddaughter, too. She’ll do great things one day.”

Sansa feels a burst of pride for Margaery. She can’t wait to tell her.

“So, have you kissed her yet?,” Rickon asks. Sansa huffs and glares at Arya as they wolf-whistle. Brat.

“Baby steps, Rickon. Baby steps,” Robb says. Sansa has to fight the urge to throw her steak at him.

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Sansa goes over to Margaery’s house, butterflies in her stomach. She knocks on the door, and realizes abruptly that she never got Margaery’s number.

Margaery opens the door. Sansa keeps her eyes on her face and not the tiny shorts-tank top combo she’s sporting today.

“Hello,” Margaery says, clearly surprised. Sansa swallows before smiling.

“Hello,” she says. “Could I come in? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Margaery stares at her for a moment. Sansa feels like she’s under a microscope.

“Sure,” she says finally, opening the door wide enough for Sansa to pass through. Their shoulders brush as she walks in.

She’s only been in Margaery’s house once before, for dinner, shortly after their first welcome one. It had a similar layout to her own, but Margaery’s had a distinct minimalistic feel to it whereas Sansa was guilty of hoarding sometimes.

She sits on her couch -leather, like her own. Margaery sits beside her.

“So,” Margaery starts. “Oh, would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Sansa says. “I have to be honest with you. I have been avoiding you for a while.”

Margaery raises her eyebrows like she wants to say “yeah I noticed” but she doesn’t interrupt.

Sansa takes a deep breath and lets it out as subtly as possible. “That day, when you met Arya, I had a sudden realization.”

“All my life, I was pretty convinced I was straight. I grew up in a pretty liberal environment -my parents are very accepting and open-minded- but I never really considered the possibility that I might be...bisexual.”

Margaery looks confused. “What does that have to do with me meeting Arya?,” she asks.

Sansa looks at her, cringing inwardly. “Do you remember what you were wearing?”

Margaery looks off to the side, trying to remember, then realization dawns on her face. She laughs.

“Oh, my God,” she says. “Are you saying I made you realize you’re bi?”

Sansa raises her eyebrows. “Is that the first time you do that to a person?”

Margaery looks amused now. “Probably not,” she says. Then she looks at Sansa for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face. “Can I ask you something?,” she asks finally, scooting a little closer to Sansa.

Sansa’s heart pounds at the proximity. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Sansa’s eyes widen. “You mean you-”

“Am I bi, too? No I’m gay. Do I find you attractive back? Yes, I do. Do I like you a lot? Yes, I do.”

Sansa can only stare.

Margaery smiles gently but there’s, for some unthinkable reason, nervousness in her eyes. “Does that answer all your questions?” A silent nod is all Sansa can manage.“Can I kiss you now maybe?”

Sansa kisses her in reply, giving herself no time to overanalyze it. Margaery doesn’t react for a moment, but then she exhales through her nose and tilts her head to kiss her back, her hands coming up to thread through Sansa’s hair. Sansa sighs against her mouth as they break apart a bit.

“You taste like strawberries,” Margaery says.

“You smell like roses,” Sansa replies. Margaery grins and goes back to kissing her.

Sansa never wants to come up for air again.


End file.
